


A Pair of OA-BAMF's

by jujitsuelf



Category: The Losers (2010), The Losers (Comic), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujitsuelf/pseuds/jujitsuelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill for - The Losers, Clay & team, he's not an old man, he's maturing nicely - so why does that cause so much hilarity when he shares his thoughts with the team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pair of OA-BAMF's

**Author's Note:**

> Posted by peaceful_sands at fic_promptly
> 
> ****
> 
> Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended

He was not old, dammit. Really, he wasn’t. It was those damn children the powers that be had seen fit to assign to his team which were the problem. Pooch, Cougar and Jensen, none of them a day over thirty three. Jensen looked like a teenager more often than not, granted that came in useful when they needed to send someone undercover, for some reason marks didn’t feel threatened by a blond twenty-something, but that was beside the point.

Right now, Clay felt like he was being forced into the role of ‘cantankerous granddaddy’, with Roque as the ‘father on the edge’, rapidly heading toward a nervous breakdown.

“Why don’t they make cell phones which just call people?” Clay demanded, waving the stupidly dinky phone around in fury. “Whose fingers are small enough to use those stupid keyboards? And who needs a QWERTY keypad on a phone? If you want to type, get a laptop. When will they go back to making phones which just _make telephone calls_?”

Cougar and Pooch sniggered, Roque nodded in sympathy and Jensen looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel, he was trying so hard to hold in his laughter.

“What?” Clay snapped, glaring at his youngest team member.

“Nothing, Boss,” Jensen hiccupped in reply, wisely not giving voice to whatever he was thinking. He glanced at Pooch. “You think we can get Clay one of those scooter things old people have so he can keep up with us on missions? We can mount a mini-gun on it and everything so he’s not completely defenseless...”

Clay snarled and swatted at Jensen, who ducked and ran, cackling madly all the time.

Cougar managed to keep a straight face, “Boss, might not be a bad idea. ‘Least you can save the wear and tear on your legs...”

“Get away from me!” Clay yelled, aiming a blow at Cougar’s hat. Cougar took the hint and also ran for his life, Pooch hot on his heels.

Left alone with Roque, Clay grinned. “We’re the old men but they still run away from us. That must count for something, huh?”

“We’re OA-BAMF’s,” Roque said, nodding wisely.

“What?” Clay frowned.

“Old-aged-bad-ass-mother-fuckers.”

Clay laughed and reached for a cigar. “I like it.”


End file.
